I never used to go to bed early

My brothers and I have a running joke. Well, we have a lot of them (all three of us are, after all, rather fond of the texting). But, in particular, we have one that has been going on for a while now. I assume my older brother started it. Not only because it pre-dates my younger brother's return from his mission, but also because my older brother is much, much more clever than I will ever be.

The joke goes something like this: one of us will text about something delicious we are eating. Pictures are optional, but encouraged. The one receiving the text will reply with "send me some!" Of course, this works best for items that, clearly, cannot be sent through the post (ice cream, delicate baked goods, meats). That is, in fact, the extent of a joke. It's probably funnier with repetition. Or context. But, you get the idea.

At any rate, a while back, my older brother texted me about madeleines. These guys are so delicious and so tricky to define and raise so many questions. Are they cake? are they cookie? Why don't more local stores sell these? Why do they also remind me of how much I've failed to do in my life?

So, when he told me he had bought some recently, I replied "send me some!" And, you know what? He did. Two whole containers, which I have yet to finish, three weeks on. It's nice having a supply of madeleines on hand. Few days are so bad (at least in my ridiculously cushy, yet occasionally frustrating life) that they cannot be solved by scalloped baked goods.

I offer photographic proof that I, in fact, have pretty much the greatest brother ever (And, yeah, I'm pretty easy to win over. Just send baked goods). Also, one of the things I love most about this package is that it contained no note, no explanation. If I didn't recognize my brother's handwriting from the box, I'd have mystery madeleines on my hands (which, of course, wouldn't stop me from eating them still).